Hold Me
by Hardra61
Summary: We've all heard about the Divorced!Mulder and the whole ring thing, but *I* never saw anything like *this*....so I wrote it. No real MSR, but something I think they'd actually put on the show in '93-'94. It's kinda short.


  
  
Hold Me  
  
By Hardra6  
  
Hardra6@yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: disclaimed.  
  
Rating: err....PG for language I guess  
  
Category: well, well, well....MA, maybe a little Pre-XF, a dab of Scully   
Concern, 1st person POV  
  
Summary: We've all heard the Divorced!Mulder theory and the "Ring   
Thing." But *I* hadn't seen *this* version of it before.  
  
Notes: The title sounds cliched and soppy, but it sounds pretty darn   
good at 11:10 PM. This isn't MSR! It's just some early-XF sympathy   
and Mulder/Scully Caring. I wouldn't even call it UST, not really.   
Anyway, it's not too long. Enjoy.  
  
=================================  
  
  
"There's something bothering you."  
  
Damn it. She always knows. She can always tell. Logically, I know it's   
because I've been giving off small signals; maybe I've been looking off   
into space for too long, maybe It's because I haven't annoyed her at all.   
Well, jeez, it might be she caught me smoking outside the motel room.   
As a matter of fact, that was probably her first sign.  
  
"Yeah--I said one was enough an hour ago and then lit up another   
one?" Dry humor; life saver. She just looked at me. I flicked the   
cigarette into the street and frowned, staring at a neon glowing sign for   
another hotel across the road.  
  
"Mulder," she said cautiously, "We've been partners for almost a year   
now. If...If there's anything you....I mean...." She cleared her throat and   
caught my gaze with her eyes. Damn her pretty blue eyes. "We've come   
a long way, Mulder, and there shouldn't be anything between us."  
  
I sighed and leaned my head back against the stucco wall outside my   
room door. Now? Could I tell her now? I should have told her a long,   
long time ago. When I told her about Sam would be nice. But I screwed   
It and now I can't tell her because she'll feel bad that I didn't tell her   
earlier.   
  
I shifted, and then shifted again; She had me in that interrogation grill   
light thing she does with her eyes; Ice Queen my ass. I felt hot all over   
and hoped with everything left of my manhood that I wasn't about to   
start blushing.   
  
"Mulder?"  
  
"Okay," I barked, and the grill lights snapped off. I bit the inside of my   
cheek and looked at our blue rental car. "Not here."  
  
"Where?"  
  
=0=  
  
"Here?"  
  
"Here." I chose a booth in the back of the nearly-empty bar and   
slumped against the wall on the far side; She gingerly took a seat across   
from me. We ordered beers and suddenly her grill lights came on again.   
  
"I, uh....." The grill lights dimmed a little and I swallowed, feeling less   
pressed. I spotted the ashtray in the middle of the table and remembered   
the box of cigs in my breast pocket. I fought the urge by forcing myself   
to look back into her interrogation eyes.  
  
"I guess I should have told you earlier," I said quietly, almost instantly   
averting my stare down to my hands. Gave myself a mental smack.   
::Now she's gonna think you're secretly a woman or something screwed   
up like that, great going.::  
  
"Told me what?" The lights snapped off; she was an innocent little girl   
now, with the bright blue eyes and freckles and twin braids that   
swished whenever she moved her head. I looked back at the ash tray.  
  
"It's, uh, nothing really....um....." God, how was I supposed to tell her   
something like this? No way she could see me as the same person. I   
liked the way she saw me now.   
  
She put a hand on my arm and my gaze traveled up her arm and into   
her eyes again. All roads don't lead to Rome. All roads lead to Dana   
Scully's freaking eyes. Every God damned one of them. "Mulder, it's   
okay. It's me, here. You can tell me."  
  
Ah, but you don't know about what. A little war raged in my mind; and   
only milliseconds into it the winner smashed a club into my brain and   
the words spilled out, out of control, and without my express   
permission.   
  
"I, I was married...I was married in late '87. I was married. Four years.   
Divorced in '91. I'm so sorry. I should have said. I should have said   
something...." My hand started shaking and I dove for the box of   
Morleys in my pocket. Scully didn't even object as I lit the cigarette and   
took several long, life saving drags.   
  
Scully fumbled a little with this information, but what little fumbling   
that happened was well hidden, and it was only a very little. "Mulder,   
that's not really as bad as you make it out to be," she said. I took   
another drag and covered my face with my hand, not hardhearted   
enough to watch her as she re-evaluated me.   
  
She watched me. The grill lights were off but by God, she watched me.  
  
"Oh," she said suddenly, almost in whisper. Her voice was very soft,   
and a few seconds later it was as if she hadn't said anything. Her   
fumbling had shown through this time; she had not been quick enough.   
  
Silence.   
  
More silence.  
  
".....how....old....." she said very, very quietly.   
  
"Six this November," I said on a beat, not daring myself to look up at   
her. There was a long and nearly unbroken silence, except for the   
waitress who stopped by to drop off two beers. Neither of us moved to   
touch them. I imagined the images going through her mind, the new   
images of the new, re-evaluated Mulder.   
  
"Her name's Kaylee," I said weakly. My voice cracked.   
  
I felt her slide into the booth next to me, and without speaking she   
wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled my head in, and I rested   
on her shoulder. The cigarette burned by itself; I was too caught up in   
my momentary disarray to care about it.   
  
"I should have t--"  
  
"Shh."  
  
I opened my eyes finally and saw the world over her shoulder, and I let   
her hold me for a while longer before respectfully pulling away, first   
being sure my eyes were dry, which they were.   
  
She rubbed my shoulder and looked at my profile curiously. I laughed   
suddenly, barked more like, and the noise was out of place. "...we   
started hating each other when Kally was two. Took that long to get the   
divorce." A chill washed over my insides at the memory, and I stared at   
the far wall of the booth. "Like I could get custody," I sneered.  
  
I felt her stiffen with caution next to me. With lack of a better thing to   
do, plus a shaking hand, I took a drag on the cigarette that was slowly   
wasting away between my middle and index fingers. "Mulder....I'm so   
sorry......" She put on old sneakers so she could walk gingerly without   
snapping any of my very taught strings. I stared at a polished-over   
brown spot on the table. "You...you do get to see her....?"  
  
"Once a month."  
  
"Once a month?!"  
  
"Once a month." I decided to stare at the cigarette now, and my   
attention drifted to the beer so I grabbed it and downed a gulp or two. If   
there was one thing I didn't need right now, It was extra brain cells.   
  
She was quiet for a while, probably trying to think of something nice to   
say and wondering how I could possibly only see my kid once a month,   
so I shifted my jaw and reached for my wallet. "Here's a picture of   
her..."   
  
Scully leaned in over me to see the picture as I slid it out from under its   
hiding place, under the well-worn old photo of my sister. I handed it to   
her; I didn't need to see the picture any more than necessary. The child's   
beautiful face was branded into my mind--not the one in that   
photograph, but frowning sadly at me over her mother's shoulder as she   
was carried from the courthouse at our final hearing.   
  
Kaylee.   
  
"She's beautiful," Scully said, and she was sincere. Because she was   
beautiful. She was Samantha with mahogany colored waves; she was   
my sister's face and she was my eyes. Scully realized that I couldn't   
bring myself to look at the picture and carefully slipped it back into its   
hiding place. A somewhat lengthy period of silence followed, and she   
eventually asked, "What is it that brings this up now?"  
  
I sighed. Oh. Yeah. That. Great fun, instantly re-living the terse phone   
call I'd gotten the day before yesterday before I can even think to keep   
my mind off it. God damn my freaking memory. "My ex is getting   
married," I said quietly, staring at the cigarette for a while before   
bringing it to my lips again. "I may be unrightously speculating, but I   
think it's some business executive slash hockey player with bleach   
blonde hair and no neck." I angrily blew out the remainder of the   
smoke through my nose and then ground my cig into the ashtray   
provided of me. I leaned back in the booth and observed the world from   
the corner-of-the-booth point of view. Scully was worried, but still   
thinking.   
  
"Mulder," she said carefully, re-knotting her noiseless sneakers, "What   
kind of woman would let you see your child once a month?" I could   
feel the anger rising in her as she spoke, and I just blinked it away,   
looking back at the still-smoking cigarette in the ashtray and wondering   
if I should light another one. I looked to Scully and sighed.   
  
"The FBI is full of lawyers, Agent Scully, and even though neither of   
us happen to be one, they're constantly around. And I happened to   
marry one. Unfortunately, my ex-wife seemed to have a grunge against   
me that nearly surpassed her law skills." I was seriously considering   
lighting up another cig, but took a sip of beer instead.   
  
"What did you do?"  
  
I wanted to be drunk. I wanted to be very, very, very drunk. Right   
NOW.   
  
"I loved my work, Scully, that's all I ever did. I loved my work."  
  
She nodded, and I could tell even though I wasn't looking at her. I   
wanted to be drunk. I worked on my bottle slowly and wished I could   
make it happen faster.   
  
"Have you ever tried to take it up again? The hearing?"  
  
I laughed genuinely, and maybe I was getting a little drunk now.   
"Scully," I giggled, "You think they'd even give me any more   
*visitation rights* than I have now? Look at me I'm, I'm a field agent,   
my life is put in danger, like, every other week, my apartment's a tiny   
little mess and....and I carry a weapon for crying out loud." Another   
drink. Getting close to asking Scully for hers, which she hasn't touched.   
  
Her face looked set. "I think you should try, Mulder," she said, her turn   
to look down at the table for a while and then back up at me. "I think   
you'd be--" she uncharacteristically ended her encouragement mid-  
sentence, and I turned my full attention to that.   
  
I looked straight into her eyes, securing her with the piercing glare I use   
normally only for suspect interrogations. I said, "You think I'd be a   
good father, Scully?" She was a deer in the headlights. I could feel her   
heart beginning to race. I could feel her going cold next to me. Our   
faces were inches apart. "You think that =I= would be a good father,   
Scully?"   
  
Her jaw moved, but it didn't make 'yes' or 'no'. I partially stood up in   
the booth, as much as it allowed me to. "Let me out, Scully."  
  
Her jaw moved again but still no noise came. She tried again and it   
worked. "No."  
  
"Scully."  
  
"No, Mulder."  
  
This time she had me in her headlights. Her eyes were wide and bright,   
and although the fear I'd seen before was still there, it had been nearly   
completely replaced with the firmness that I knew was in her.   
  
"No, Mulder," she said, her voice more quiet.   
  
Our eyes did not leave each other. We hardly blinked for minutes, and   
finally, slowly, and without my permission, I felt my legs slowly   
bending and I found myself sitting again.   
  
Scully did not touch me, she did not rub my arm or take my hands or   
hug me or touch me at all, but her eyes never let go of their imperial   
hold. I was defenseless. She had me, she had my heart at her fingertips   
and my soul with her eyes.   
  
"Yes, Mulder," she whispered. "Yes, Mulder. I do."  
  
I blinked, then I swallowed, and then she freed me. My eyes fell to the   
ground without her to support them, and I felt my posture weaken and   
my shoulders droop, and instants later I felt the dooming inner bubbling   
of tears before they strike. I held myself very still. There would be no   
crying for Fox Mulder.   
  
She slowly scooted out of the booth, and then held her hand out to me.   
I stared at it, and stared at it more, then finally reached a weak hand out   
to accept it. She pulled me to my feet and used her magical invisible   
strings to hold me up while she left some money on the table, took a sip   
of her untouched beer, and plucked the pack of cigarettes out of my   
pocket. When she started to walk for the door, my strings moved and   
my legs began following her, my mind absent, out and into the   
passenger seat of her car.   
  
"Mulder, you there?" she asked before starting the car. My lips moved,   
but the invisible strings couldn't make me speak.   
  
"Yeah," I said finally, of my own will, "I think I'm okay."  
  
Then she smiled at me and then she touched my hand. I looked into her   
eyes. I wanted them to hold me again, but they refused. I pleaded with   
them, but they steadily--softly, but steadily--kept me at bay. She started   
the car and I was not able to capture her eyes for the rest of the way to   
the hotel.  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," I said quietly once we pulled into   
the parking lot. "I should have."  
  
"What matters is that I know now," Scully said carefully, "And I don't   
have a problem with it."  
  
I tried to smile, but all I got was a smile-like twitch. "November 13 is   
her birthday," I managed, trying to keep myself steady and rational   
sounding, "I was going to take her to a theme park or something on that   
weekend."  
  
"Sounds like you'll have fun," Scully said. She didn't sound sincere, but   
I wasn't sure what her true feelings were.   
  
"It would be great if you could come," I said, my voice fading almost   
completely. "You could....meet her....and everything....."  
  
I brushed my breast pocket--empty now--with my shaking right hand,   
trying to snap myself out of it. Withdrawal would sure be fun tonight.   
After a moment, I lowered my hand and gathered my wits enough to   
look to her eyes again.   
  
They smiled.  
  
  
FIN  
  
5/29/01  
  
  



End file.
